


A line crossed

by KindOfDistracting



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Gen, squint a little bc it's kind of hawke/anders since it's my hawke
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-06
Updated: 2015-02-06
Packaged: 2018-03-10 17:03:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3297818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KindOfDistracting/pseuds/KindOfDistracting
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fenris learns when to stop</p>
            </blockquote>





	A line crossed

**Author's Note:**

> based on my wish to be able to just punch companions occationally when their banter gets a little too... you know
> 
> especially when they start bullying Merrill

„Talk to Hawke about his mother. Ask him who went 'too far'.“  
Before the mage manages to open his mouth to retort, Fenris is slammed into the wall, breath knocked out of him. For a moment he's disoriented, panic welling up.  
Are they being attacked? But Fenris can't make out the the typical sounds of combat. Instead he hears Anders gasp in surprise, and otherwise nothing.  
There's a hand pressed against his chest, a hand in a gauntlet that is familiar. It's Hawke's hand. Fenris's eyes follow up Hawke's arm to his face, and – oh dear Maker.  
It is so much different to be on the receiving side of Hawke's anger.

But it's not the kind of anger that makes Hawke roar in battle, makes him stampede their enemies like an out of control bronko. The kind of anger Fenris knows.  
No, it's hard, it's cold, Varric would compare it with a dagger made of ice. Fenris just thinks it's terrifying.  
“Leave mother out of this. Leave my mother out of your personal vendetta against everything magic.”  
Fenris opens his mouth to reply, even if he's not entirely sure what he's supposed to say, but instead the hand on his chest becomes heavier. It's calming to know Fenris is the only one capable of ripping hearts out of chests.  
“My father,” the words leave Hawke's mouth with a pressure that reminds Fenris of a steam kettle, “was a mage. So don't. Don't drag her... Death into your vendetta.”

The hand is gone as quickly as it appeared, and before Hawke turns around Fenris catches a last glimpse of Hawke's face. He looks tired, as if it had been months since Hawke last got a proper night of sleep.  
After the years spent with each others company Fenris is still surprised that the look on Hawke face hurts, that knowing that he hurt Hawke with his words hurts, that he cares enough to be worried about him.  
Shoulders hunched he stays in the back of the group, a good distance between him and Anders. He looks like Fenris feels, and Fenris would gloat at any other time. Instead he watches Varric talk to Hawke, too quiet for Fenris to hear, one hand on Hawke's back.


End file.
